


A Female Form

by Torched22



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Menstruation, Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torched22/pseuds/Torched22
Summary: Aziraphale tries to stay busy after the not-so-pocalypse by doing good deeds and helping humans when he isn't spending time with his favorite serpent. One of these deeds requires that he take a female form...which he hasn't done before.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

"Aziraphale," Crowley called as he kicked the bookshop door shut behind him. The two to-go tea's in his hands were piping hot and he was sure that his angel had procured the baked goods he was raving about yesterday. He expected to round the bookshelf and see his friend sitting and waiting for him with those blackberry currant croissants on two plates, but no such sight greeted him. 

"Aziraphale?" he called again, setting the tea's down on the nearest available surface and looking around. "Angel?" His voice was becoming more frantic, he swept through the bookshop with rising panic. His mind’s eye offered up an inconveniently timed flashback and the haunting scent of brimstone and burning books roared to life in his memory. 

Trying to put his panic aside in favor of logic, he remembered that he could sense the ethereal being. Once his terror was harnessed and shoved aside, he did in fact sense Aziraphale...above him.

“Angel?” he continued calling as he strode up the narrow staircase to the upper room. He’d never seen Aziraphale’s upstairs in person, but the angel had mentioned it in passing. Crowley’s reaction was: you have a bedroom? A bed? Which he had immediately regretted saying, his face going flush with pink. In response, the angel had given him a small smile and informed him that he only used it for lying down to read a good book when he wanted a change of scenery. 

Now, Crowley stood in a narrow hallway, outside of the closed door that belonged to that very bedroom. Luckily, he could feel Aziraphale’s presence within. 

Bringing up a pale, bony hand, he knocked. “Angel?” 

“Yes, I’m here,” a response. 

Thank somebody. Relief poured through the demon at knowing his angel was alright. Although...the answer he’d gotten from the other side of the door sounded...odd. 

“Come in.”

OH. Oh. He hadn’t been expecting that. An invitation to the angel’s bedroom? This day was proving to be very odd indeed. His hand reached for the knob with trepidation as if the space inside might be too holy for his presence. He turned it regardless and pushed the door open. 

“Aziraphale, wh-” the word died in his throat as he stood a few feet inside the room, mouth parted in surprise. 

“Hello dear,” the angel was staring back at him, wringing his hands nervously. Er - her hands. 

“Y-you’re a lady,” Crowley said in shock. His golden eyes were huge behind his sunglasses and his mouth instantly went dry. 

“Yes, I am,” Aziraphale said matter-of-factly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. He took several steps towards Crowley who couldn’t help but continue to gape. “I don’t know why it’s so shocking. You were a lady for eleven years, Nanny Ashtoreth,” the angel smiled slyly. 

Crowley snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat. “Y-yes I was,” he recalled that time, and several others when he had taken on the female form. But never to his knowledge had Aziraphale ever taken a woman’s form. “I - erm - I...well...have you ever taken a woman’s form before?” his voice was tightrope high. 

“I haven’t,” the angel answered bashfully. “Which is why I wasn’t downstairs yet. I wasn’t quite sure if I’d...well...gotten it right.” 

Crowley’s mind felt as though it was on the verge of combustion. Gotten it right? GOTTEN IT RIGHT? He gulped. Not only had Aziraphale gotten it right, he’d nailed it. He...she...was stunning. Her long curling hair was the same downy soft, barely blonde that it had been before. She wore a creamy sweater, the same hue as his waistcoat had been, and had a form fitting blazer-like jacket on over it...except that it was less formal than a standard blazer. Her eyes were the same glittering azure they always were, and of course, there was that cloyingly sweet smile, made only sweeter by a near sheer, rosie lip gloss. 

Aziraphale’s form was perfection, and Crowley struggled to remember how to breathe, forgetting that he didn’t even need to. She was busty, with curves that sloped in only to flare out at her hips. And her thighs…

Crowley squeaked and then tried to cover it in a cough. “You look...good,” he settled on, too afraid that elaboration would have him turn into a babbling puddle of incoherency. 

“Just good?” Aziraphale’s face scrunched in worry. “Oh, I spent so long…”

“No, I mean...you look...really good. I - I was at a loss for words,” he admitted.

And there it was, that spark of genuine warmth glittering in Aziraphale’s eyes as his worries melted away. 

“So erm, should I call you ‘she?’ Or...if you’d like, I could still use ‘he?’” nervousness bubbled beneath his skin, caramelizing and sticky. 

“Oh, good question,” Aziraphale thought for a moment. “Well...I’ve told the other ladies to call me Azra. And they of course will refer to me as “she,” but since you know me, I think I’d rather like to still be called “he,” he nodded.

“Yeah, sure, ‘f course.” 

Holy shit. Crowley could barely keep himself together. He’d never anticipated that such a change would have an effect on him. Afterall, it was still his angel, it was still Aziraphale. So why then did it feel as if all the air had been sucked out of the room? 

His brain was in overdrive, thinking so many thoughts all at once that he could barely function. Did Aziraphale have a similar crisis when Crowley switched forms? Did it affect him at all? And how had the angel gone 6,000 years without ever needing to be a woman? How was that possible? And...the angel had said that he’d spent “so long” crafting this form...how long exactly had he spent? And...and...oh...h-had he made an effort?

At that last thought, Crowley’s train of thought skidded to a halt and he willed his focus to be elsewhere. He needed to reign in his tempestuous mind before he simply discorporated on the spot.

“Uhm, so you mentioned other ladies?” he tried to push on as if this was all normal, ignoring the burn under his collar or the blood pooling at his groin. 

“Ah, yes!” Aziraphale walked even closer.

Crowley was hit with a wave of perfume that rolled off the angel and nearly made him groan. His angel smelled of books and nutmeg and cinnamon as he usually did...but now there was also a soft floral sweetness, gentle and refreshing. 

“So I was at this delightful coffee shop and I overheard some ladies discussing this group that they’re in. They do so much good work around the city, volunteering, running meetings for domestic abuse survivors, helping out at shelters, delivering food to the homeless. I so wanted to keep busy doing something to help humans out since the world didn’t end,” he went on animatedly. “And I’m sure I could have found a men’s group that does the same thing, but the women talking were so friendly and kind...and, well...I thought it was time I broadened my horizons.” 

“Ah, yeah, sounds good,” he nodded.

“Also...the two of us have witnessed, and been a part of, so much history. Half the human population is women, and yet, I have no idea what it’s like to be one.”

“So you wanted to...understand women better?” 

“Something like that I suppose. I have always admired their resiliency and tenacity. There’s just something about them.”  
A little whisper of jealousy wrapped a tendril around Crowley, until he realized what it was and how absurd it was and shook it off. 

“I’d like to hear about the different times you were a woman,” Aziraphale motioned towards the door and the pair walked out into the hallway. “Perhaps over wine tonight after I get back from my work with the group?” 

“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” he walked down the narrow stairwell and moved to retrieve their tea. With a little snap, he made them hot once more and produced the croissants that he’d known Aziraphale had been lusting after. 

The angel made a thrilled little squeak of delight upon seeing the croissants. “Let’s have breakfast,” he reached for the tea held out to him by the demon. 

Briefly, the tips of their fingers touched and the contact made several new sensations sweep through the angel’s body. He had every brush of a shoulder, every glance, every sweep of fingers memorized that he and Crowley had ever shared. This was another to add to the treasured collection. But it affected his new form in surprising, albeit wonderful ways. Rather than a throbbing insistence that he’d felt his male form, now there was a delicious pulsing ache between his legs. He suddenly felt empty and needy in a way that he couldn’t quite describe, even to himself. 

Clearing his throat, he took his tea and sat. Crowley sat next to him, warmth radiating from his body that Aziraphale longed to lean into. He would certainly have to explore these new bodily sensations more later on...and perhaps ask Crowley about them.


	2. Chapter 2

The day carried on... exceedingly slow. Crowley had a lot of experience with time. He knew how it ebbed and flowed, could feel its crests and troughs. He was good at making time go by faster, just on a much larger scale than a single day. He could nap away a year, or a hundred, but he wasn't sure how to make it become evening faster.

So he tried to keep busy and he waited. 

And waited.

Until morning slid away beneath the noonday sun and then that same sun dipped and glowed to a golden afternoon. The city buzzed, people rushing about, unaware of just how close they had come to annihilation. 

He didn't want to seem too eager - didn't want to show up at the bookshop as soon as the label "evening" could be held up and justified. So Crowley waited and dawdled and nearly went out of his head with just how desperately he wanted to see Aziraphale. 

Ever since the world hadn't ended, that...itch...that Crowley had towards the principality had only intensified. The world seemed more amenable to the impossible becoming possible and he hoped against hope that perhaps their encounters would turn...deeper. 

He'd fantasized and lusted after and loved Aziraphale for thousands of years, but he was still terrified of recklessly pursuing what he so desperately craved. Despite heaven and hell leaving them alone (for now), he knew that they weren't done with them. But that was just a cowardly answer. In truth, he was scared to death of his heart shattering. Of being rejected. Of being broken beyond repair. Aziraphale seemed too good for him, too pure. And what if...what if he made him fall? Just by kissing him, just by loving him back.

A car honked outside his flat and startled him back to the moment. Wow, of course...of course the day would drip by like a leaking faucet, painfully slow. And now it decided to speed? Now that he didn't need it to.

He grabbed the promised bottle of wine, made sure his hair was perfect, and walked out the door. 

As he drove to Aziraphale's book shop, he had made up his mind on several things. 1. He would not gawk at Aziraphale 2. He would not become a blubbering fool of incoherency 3. When Aziraphale would inevitably ask about Crowley's exploits as a woman...he would ONLY tell him necessary details and 4. He would not become so inebriated that he'd let his guard slip. 

He replayed these rules over and over in his head until the familiar structure rose before him.

Steeling himself, he cut the ignition and popped open the Bentley's door. He left the familiar safety of his vehicle for the unknown that awaited him. He was always dying to see the angel but he had been so overwhelmed upon seeing his friend's female form that he made a fool of himself that morning. Excitement fluttered in his stomach and anticipation crawled beneath his skin. He wasn't so sure that he could avoid making a fool of himself again.

Of course, Aziraphale was waiting for him, ensconced within the warm glow inside. He was so beautiful, a shiver went down Crowley's spine. He just played it off as part of his usual saunter. 

"Angel," he regarded his friend with a smile in his words. "You're looking radiant as ever." 

"Ah, thank you," his beautiful female face smiled at back. "I must say, I spent the day quite unsure of this new body of mine. I hope my awkwardness wasn't too apparent," the angel stood, moving to procure the wine glasses and his favorite bottle opener. 

"You seem normal to me," Crowley came closer, plopping on the sofa in his usual style.

"So...what did you bring?" The angel emerged and held out his hand. Crowley put the bottle in his palm. "'S Vina Almaviva's Cabernet, from Puente Alto." Shoot...was he giving away that he'd thought way too much about this? Probably. 

"Sounds lovely," Aziraphale beamed as he read the label. Dark fruit and spice flavors, herbal notes, red fruits, a rich finish... "Think it'll go well with dark chocolate? I have some that I've been wanting to try." 

"Yeah, sure. Here, let me open it," he held his hands out and took the bottle and corkscrew from his friend. He was glad that their fingers didn't touch - he needed to maintain control of himself for as long as possible. 

The corkscrew was adorable and he tried not to think about it too hard as he twisted it into the cork and watched the little arms - which were silver wings - raise. Aziraphale returned with the chocolate.

"Well, are you going to pour us some wine?" Azra chuckled.

Crowley wondered if Aziraphale knew why he was so off his game and hoped the answer was 'no.' He coughed to clear his throat and grabbed a glass to fill it up.

"So how was your group?" 

"It was wonderful," the angel grinned. "I dare say I could even see myself becoming friends with several of these ladies."

Crowley tried not to dwell on that too much, pushing aside the jealousy that he knew was ridiculous.

"One lady in particular, Elizabeth, is just whip smart and so kind. I think she loves food just as much as I do." 

"Is that even possible?" he jested. 

"I think it is," he gave a bit of chocolate to Crowley. "So...why don't you tell me about your experiences as a female?" 

Aziraphale was a bit overeager, he found the question past his lips before he could pull it back. He remembered Crowley vividly as a woman. The flaming red tendrils that peeked out from the traditional middle eastern shawl. The sly looks sent to him through Crowley's eyes, set in Nanny Ashtoreth's face. 

Seeing Crowley in his female form was a rare thing and it made Aziraphale's insides do somersaults. He wondered if his own female form had the same effect on the demon.

At the thought, his heart skipped. He knew he had thrown off Crowley's cool nonchalance, and he relished the triumph in having done so. He wanted to push Crowley a bit, see if he would wobble and sway and perhaps tip in a more amorous direction. 

Crowley took a deep breath and wondered if he ought to leave his sunglasses on for this. He didn't go to remove them. "Ah...well...I think the biggest difference in being a woman, was how other people treated me," he tread carefully. "I mean...it's 2020 and women still aren't on an even keel with men," he drank more. 

"It's ridiculous," Aziraphale breathed into his wine before taking a healthy sip. 

"It is," he agreed, his eyes trained on Aziraphale's fingers plucking a square of dark chocolate from its golden foil. It disappeared behind his glossed lips and Crowley squirmed. Azra chewed it and made a hum of appreciation that could only be considered sensual. After he swallowed, he chased it with wine. 

Crowley was so aroused that he wondered how his soul hadn't slipped out of his body and coalesced as a puddle on the floor.

"So...how many times have you been in a female form?" 

Crowley swallowed thickly. He was unaware that Aziraphale could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off him on that invisible plane of feeling. As a demon, he wasn't privy to that plane. 

Aziraphale wondered why Crowley was so anxious...

What he didn't know was that the demon's brain instantly flashed to all the times he'd presented as female. But...it also reminded him...of the many times he had remained his usual self but had miracled himself a cunt. 

Hell, half the time the angel had seen him he'd had female genitalia...just not breasts. But ah...how he loved being in a female body, especially when it came to sex. Guiltily, he recalled slipping his fingers along his slick folds with Aziraphale's name upon his lips. 

"Crowley? Is something wrong?" 

"Wha? No. Why?" 

"Well, you didn't answer the question." That and the anxiety rolling off Crowley was nearly suffocating to the angel. "I fear that I'm making you uncomfortable dear, perhaps we should change the subject?" 

"No!" Crowley looked personally affronted. "Don be ridiculous," he screeched. "I do want to talk about it." Apparently he'd need more wine to do so though.


End file.
